Harry Potter and the Power He Needs Most
by Ichai
Summary: COMPLETE. One Shot. Harry attempts a ritual to give him the Power He Knows Not. Doesn't get exactly what he expected. Rated M for strong language.


Harry watched Hermione carefully finish checking the runes surrounding the pentagram. It had been two weeks since she had found the ancient grimoire in the Grimmauld Place library. She managed to convince Ron that it was a good idea, and the two of them had pressured Harry into performing one of the rituals described between its dusty bindings.

The first Harry learned of the idea was when Hermione had dragged Ron into his bedroom, interrupting a particularly pleasant daydream involving Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. With a dangerous creak from the bedsprings, she sat beside him, breaking his attention away from thoughts of his three favourite chasers and back to the cold, musty reality of his old-people smelling room.

"Harry, we need to talk."

Harry, with his usual mental grace, blinked at her. "Huh?"

"You see, the thing is, Ron and I have been talking, and we've come up..."

At this point, Ronald, being at least clever enough to know when blame is being laid, interrupted. "No way, this was all your idea. No effing way I'm responsible for this."

With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Hermione continued. "Fine. _I_ may have found a possible solution to the prophecy."

It had been over two months since the debacle at the Department of Mysteries and Dumbledore's revelation about Harry's destiny. He had explained the prophecy to his two friends shortly before leaving Hogwarts, and while fearful for him, they were extremely supportive. "Always knew you'd off the bastard," Ron had answered after the initial shock wore off. However, despite his friends' optimistic attitude, Harry had been getting increasingly depressed. Apart from mourning Sirius's death, he was also sulking quite frequently about several subjects. The Prophecy, the Dursleys, the Prophecy, his stagnant love life, the Daily Prophet, and the Prophecy were the most frequent targets of his angst-filled complaints. When he had started whining about his OWL scores, and how he now couldn't take Potions, despite loathing the class for five years and showing no signs of any particular gift for it, Hermione had begun seeking refuge in the library to avoid having to listen to his complaints. She reappeared several days later, covered in cobwebs and toting a massive, leatherbound tome detailing numerous dark and debatable rituals of power.

In explanation, she held up the book for him to examine. "'Rituals and Rites: How to Upgrade Your Power with Dangerous and Morally Ambiguous Rituals that are Banned in Fifteen Countries?' That seems awfully specific."

She shrugged, "It's actually twenty-three countries now, the book was written when the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman Empires were still standing." With care worthy of Madam Pince, she placed the book on the bed. "Anyway, the one you're doing isn't illegal." Looking away, she muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

Harry frowned at her. "What did you say?"

Hermione rolled her eyes again, "I _said _it's not illegal, quit badgering me already."

"No, after that. You mumbled something."

"No, I didn't."

"Uh... yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't!"

At this point, Ron sat down across from the arguing pair. He leaned forward and looked at Hermione, "Actually, you did. We both heard you."

Sitting up straight, Hermione growled at both of the boys. "Fine! I said 'It's not illegal in Bosnia!'" she snapped.

Harry, having given up entirely on returning to his daydream sat up to lean against his headboard. "Wait, back up. What ritual? And who said I'm doing anything? I'm not going to do an illegal ritual out of some crazy book just because you say so."

"Don't be stupid, of course it's not just because I say so. Ron agrees with me." She narrowed her eyes menacingly at the redhead. "Don't you, Ronald?"

Ron glanced at her nervously, before nodding his agreement. "'Course I do. It's a really good idea. All your ideas are good ideas. You've never had a bad idea in your life."

"Shush Ron." she cut him off shortly, "You're prattling again." She turned back to Harry with a glint in her eye. "Anyway, as you can see, we both think it is a good idea. I can do most of the work preparing the circle, as well as the arithmantic calculations. It shouldn't take very long to get ready, then you'll be able to defeat You-Know-Who."

As she began standing up, Harry jumped to his feet. "Wait! You haven't explained anything! What ritual? Why am I doing this? What does it do? No. Bugger this. I might be stupid, but no bloody way I'm doing this."

Hermione flopped back down on the bed, brow creased in a scowl. "Fine. Since you asked, the ritual is called the Rite of Requirement. It grants the person performing it the thing they most require."

Harry stopped and gaped at her. "What? It can do that?"

As she nodded happily, his previously immovable frown began to relax slightly. "This is exactly what I need! 'The Power He Knows Not!' Thank you Hermione!"

At this, Hermione got a slightly smug look on her face. "Of course it's what you need. I found it."

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

After much laborious inscribing of runes, and lengthy consultation with charts and books, Hermione declared the ritual circle to be complete. Harry was fidgeting nervously next to her desk as she cross-referenced her calculations one last time. She glanced over at him and frowned slightly. "Stop it, you'll be fine. I've checked everything at least four times, it's all perfect."

Harry slumped back in his chair. "I know... I'm just nervous. And you haven't even explained how this thing is gonna work anyway."

She got a slightly shocked look on her face at this. "I didn't? I could have sworn I'd already gone over that..." She rummaged through several piles of parchment, muttering to herself. "Ah, here's my notes. According to _Rituals and Rites_, the ritual draws on your magic only to the extent required to produce the required effect... Sounds simple enough. You just go into the circle, and the runes do the rest of the work."

Harry looked blankly at her. "That's it? No dancing naked, no sacrificing sheep?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "It looks that way. You just enter the circle. Oh, you will have to be naked though. Can't have anything interfering with the magical fields generated by the runes."

He looked at her in horror. "What! No way am I doing this naked!"

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, an action that had become exceedingly well-practiced since they had started work on the ritual. "Don't be so prudish, Harry. Nudity is nothing to be ashamed of. The ancient druids used to go skyclad at every ritual, it's a long-established practice"

"Maybe for you!"

Eventually, she managed to convince him that The Power He Knows Not would be worth the minor embarrassment of being naked in front of his friends. Grudgingly, Harry denuded himself and, with great trepidation, stepped over edge of the circle. The instant both feet touched the center of the pentagram, a searing flash of light sprang up from every inscribed rune and line on the worn floorboards. Blinded, Hermione and Ron staggered back against the wall in shock. Harry threw up his arms to protect his eyes, only to have the brilliant light disappear as suddenly as it started. No longer blinding white, the runes began pulsating softly with shimmering colours that started to coalesce around his feet. The coloured fog began to swirl up Harry's legs, quickly surrounding him in a nimbus of softly glowing light. When the fog reached his head, all the light ceased as suddenly as it began, the fog rapidly congealing into a... boot.

The three of them stared at the hovering boot for a long second. Hermione opened her mouth for a moment before shutting it soundlessly. As Harry's shocked face began to morph into confusion, the boot swung forward with a powerful kick, catching him sharply in the side of the head. He toppled over, shouting in fear and anger, "What the bloody hell is that!"

The toe of the boot opened abruptly and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mad-eye Moody's barked out, "Get off yer bloody arse, ye lazy pigeon fucker!" The boot flew down for another attack, slamming into the other side of his head. "Quit yer bloody whinging and crying and man up already! No one cares that ye hafta kill the sodding wanker what killed yer mum 'n dad! Ye should be fuckin' honoured, god damnit! Pull yer 'ead out o' yer bloody, cock-loving arsehole and get ta work, you fuckin' dog-sucking faggot!" The boot gave one last violent swing, slamming into Harry's unprotected groin with a sickening thud. With an ineffable air of smugness, the offensive footwear floated back into the center of the pentagram and began to shimmer as the magic took hold once more. Just before blinking out of existence, the toe opened again, and the boot shouted at Harry one last time, "And put some fuckin' clothes on, ye filthy fuckin' pervert!" With the final abusive syllable, the boot disappeared with a small pop.

Hermione and Ron gaped at Harry's moaning form. Hermione opened her mouth again, only to close it after several seconds of silence. Finally, Ron exclaimed, "What the fuck was that?!"


End file.
